Dark Frontier
by Parable
Summary: America dreamed the Dream again. That Dream that attacked him with the wrongs he had done. He fought back, of course. But reliving those less proud moments never got any easier no matter how much he eventually made amends. America hated that Dream.
1. Bald Eagle Vietnam

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

______________________

**Dark Frontier: Bald Eagle**

America was dreaming the Dream again. He hated the Dream. He could not be happy in the Dream, he could not be carefree or optimistic. The Dream gave him nothing to be happy about. For all his strength and his can-do attitude he was powerless to change what the Dream showed him. America would have face the Dream head on, like always.

He could do that.

He was on the frontier. Just where exactly he was not sure, somewhere on the Great Plains. Behind him was a typical frontier town: horses and people moved around wagons while children ran underfoot. Supply stores on both sides of the street advertised their goods while women packed up their belongings for the long trek west. No one seemed to notice America standing on the outskirts of the town. In front of him was the vast and unsettled lands as far as the eye could see. The sun was setting in the distance, its yellow and orange hues slowly giving way to the black night and twinkling stars.

But the sun never set in his dream, and the town never went to sleep either. The eternal dusk on the dark frontier was the ever present part of the Dream. As was his finding himself between the lively and safe town and the frontier. America was aware that he had a pack on his back, a shotgun in one hand and his hat in the other. He set the hat on his head and began walking away from the town, never looking back.

America always moved forward.

The plains were devoid of life. Nothing, not even the wind, moved or made a sound. The eerie quiet was almost too much for America to stand. He began whistling Yankee Doodle.

A screech behind him and something slammed into America's head before he could turn around, knocking his hat off. Something flew past him in the not-quite-night sky and disappeared into the sun. America rubbed his head where the thing had struck him. His hand meeting something warm and wet, several punctures in his skin had begun bleeding. He swore quietly and squinted into the sky to look for his attacker.

The Bald Eagle soared in straight out of the sun and struck his face. Talons ripped into his skin, knocking of his glasses and drawing blood. America cried out in pain and struck out into the air to hit his attacker but the bird had already flown up high into the air. Cursing again, he pulled up his gun and aimed – at nothing really, he couldn't see where it had flown thanks to the darkness. Oh wait, there it was.

Circling overhead, acting more like a buzzard than anything else, The Bald Eagle glared at him with fierce yellow eyes reflecting the small amount of sunlight left. No, not sunlight. Bombs…

_Vietnam watched, horror-struck, as his bombers annihilated villages and rice fields. Bridges collapsed into the rivers below them. Farmland was torn asunder and burned to ash. Modern buildings were smashed apart and huts and shacks simply annihilated. What few vehicles there were turned into darkened husks while boats along the river lit up like lanterns for some twisted holiday. And people died. There were always people dying._

"_So, you think we got them all?" America chirped after the bombers left._

_Vietnam said nothing. America stood behind her, wondering if he should do something. Awkwardly he reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, realizing only then that she was trembling. She looked up at him with bitter tears on her confused face._

"_I don't understand! Why did you…" words failed her and she burst into sobs._

_America put his arm around her awkwardly, "Hey, cheer up!" he said with cheeriness even he knew was fake. "At least the Communist are gone!"_

_The change on her mood was amazingly fast. Her shaking stopped and the crying ceased. He didn't understand the expression on Vietnam's face when she looked back up at him, revulsion or horror maybe._

"_The Communist? Is that all you care about?" she shrieked, moving away from him. "What about my people? What about our needs? You promised us better lives but all you've given me is this!" she waved her arm at the torched hamlet they had been standing in front of. _

"_This is taking longer than I thought, okay!" America snapped back, "Look, just give me some time and I promise –"_

"_Promise, promise, promise! That's all I ever hear from you! Yet not one promise has been kept!" _

_She ran away after that, someplace America couldn't find. When she returned she said little to him. Her eyes, once sad, stared at him with frustration from then on out though. Frustration became anger and the anger in her eyes began looking more and more like outright hatred. America ignored it, figuring it was just one of those woman things. He had more important things to worry about than Vietnam's feelings._

_Then, one day, he had caught himself among the enemy. The firefight lasted only five minutes, three on one but he was America and he could not be beat. There was just one left, and they ran into each other completely by accident. They scuffled and America knocked off the hat that Vietnam's people liked to where – and found Vietnam herself underneath._

"_But why? I'm trying to help you!" he asked with bafflement._

"_Liar!" Vietnam shouted at him. "You don't care about me, you just want to fight Russia!"_

_He wanted to deny it, but something inside of him kept him from saying so. She ran off again but this time she didn't come back. Her words continued to ring in his ears throughout the war though as he fought and killed. As more of her people died and his own grew disillusioned. At long last he left. It wasn't till later that he realized that his last thoughts hadn't been on Vietnam, but along the lines of: You win this time Russia…_

The Bald Eagle flew straight at him again. Claws outstretched and screaming at him. Golden eyes pierced his blue ones. America never broke eye contact, sending his own thoughts into the bird of prey…

_When he saw her again at a UN meeting Vietnam looked tired. She spotted him but immediately averted her eyes, he did the same. Years passed and this routine continued. Until the day they somehow found themselves sitting next to each other. The awkward looks were exchanged and then they both stared straight ahead for most of the meeting, not speaking or looking at each other. Then France began speaking about his education system and how great it was. "And do you know the first thing every French child is taught?" he asked and looked around expectedly._

"_How to surrender in German?" America muttered under his breath. Vietnam heard him and before she could stop herself began snickering. America looked at her in surprise before smiling himself. After that all of France's speech received some whispered commentary courtesy of America while Vietnam tried to stifle her laughter. When the meeting was over he stopped her on her way out. "Can we talk?" he asked her. Vietnam gave him a long hard look before nodding._

_Several years later the two watched as the Vietnamese embassy opened up in the US. America beamed, time had healed their wounds. Vietnam had a faint smile on her face, bitterness and hatred gone. The smile left too, however, when America offered her a supersized double bacon cheesbuger._

Three feet from his face the Bald Eagle found itself on the receiving end of a bash to the head with the shotgun. America had waited for just the right moment before acting, no need to waste bullets on this guy. He wiped the blood off his face and continued walking. The Dream wasn't over yet.

An hour later his next encounter occurred. A hiss and a rattle rose up from several feet in front of him At least the Rattlesnake was polite enough to warn him it was near.

_________________________________

Chapter Notes:

1. During the Vietnam War it was difficult for American soldiers to distinguish friend from foe as the Viet Cong would hide among the general populous. At some point Americans would simply bomb a whole South Vietnamese town after being convinced it was a communist stronghold. To quote: 'It became necessary to destroy the town to save it.' Needless to say this did not endear the Americans to the people they were supposed to be helping.

2. Obligatory French joke. No offense is meant to the actual French, the French military or the French education system. The sudden defeat of France during WWII coupled with the constant differences between US and French foreign policy later led to a rather dim view of French military capabilities for a long time. Vietnam defeated her then colonial master at Dien Bien Phu even though the French said the Vietnamese couldn't stand up to them in a real modern battle. She would find potshots at France funny.

3. America and Vietnam resumed diplomatic relationships in 1995 under President Bill Clinton after a 20 years hiatus.

Please Review! I'm asking nicely! Review! Review! Review! Review!


	2. Rattlesnake Racism

Thanks to **Peridot Tears** and **firefly-jar-of-doom **for their reviews. You guys rock! This chapter is a bit longer than the first one and I'm not completely satisfied with it. Oh well, enjoy anyway!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

______________________

**Dark Frontier: Rattlesnake **

The beady black eyes gave no hint to the reptile's feelings but the tail did a fine job of telling America it was angry at him. For his part, America decided the smart thing would be not to make any sudden movements. Partly hidden in the grass and concealed in the darkness the Rattlesnake only let its head be revealed as it focused on America. He tried to resist the urge to blink as the snake slithered closer to him, rattling all the way. A foot away now and the creature of his Dream slowly lifted itself higher to better see into his eyes…

_Another time and place, America hammered down a spike before wiping the sweat off his brow. The desert was not a friendly place but the railroads had to go somewhere. It was the end of the week; pay day. He walked up to the boss along with his fellow workers, many of them Chinese who like him worked all day for the train companies setting rails and cutting down trees. A week's labor and wages only a half of America's they received. They didn't protest so America kept his mouth shut. If they didn't think it was unfair who was he to say anything? _

The Rattlesnake struck. America leapt back, narrowly avoiding the creature's fangs and lost his balance. He hit the ground, dropping his gun and scrapping his palms on the hard dirt. The Rattlesnake curled back up while America scrambled away on his hands and feet. It lashed out again and again America barely dodged a mouthful of venom.

"_Keep it moving people! Come on, hurry it up!" America yelled into the crowed shuffling about on the train platform. _

_He watched irritably as Japanese-Americans slowly boarded the trains with what little luggage they had been allowed to carry. This was taking forever. Here he was getting a bunch of people into some far off camp in some far off remote area of California when he could be out fighting Japan himself. _

_Confused and forlorn faces stared at him from the windows of the cars. America stared back at them suspiciously. Any one of them could be a spy. That guy with the hat or that guy in the polo shirt. That woman with too much make-up or that kid playing with a model plane. Anyone one of them could be – no probably was – a spy for Japan. Well America wasn't about to let any of his enemy's people just walk around like they owned the place._

_That last car was loaded and the train began moving. America did not stay to watch it go. As long as they stayed in those concentration camps for the rest of the war they didn't matter to him._

Hissing and shaking its tail, the Rattlesnake slithered closer to attempt another deadly bite. Moving faster and more deliberately than any rattlesnake had a right to, really. His luck ran out on the third strike. America couldn't move fast enough. With a final lunge the Rattlesnake sank its fangs into his left leg, just above the ankle. America screamed as poison was jumped into his system.

_Again the world changed. Somewhere in the South the bodies of colored men hung from the trees. Kidnapped from their homes in the dead of the night or taken right off the streets. Having done nothing wrong but be in the wrong place at the wrong time and be of a darker shade of skin. Wives and children gathered around the swinging bodies crying hopeless tears as police looked on with indifference. America spared them a pitying glance and then went about his business. _

_Another time as he left the voting booth, he found the beaten and bleeding bodies of those black people who had dared to vote for the future of their country. America quickly turned around and took another route home, disgust on his face but no conviction to do anything about it. Things like this happened everyday after all._

Never did the reptile take its eyes off of him as it injected its venom, never giving him a chance to justify himself. Pain was its way of lashing out at his hypocrisy and spinelessness over the years. If snakes could talk this one would be mockingly chanting: "_Freedom, Justice, Equality!"_ while it poisoned him both with its fangs and those shameful memories.

America tried to pull the creature off of him with one hand while grasping around him for gun. America's hand drifted over a rock instead. He grasped it tightly and sent his own glare back at the Rattlesnake…

_China looked on approvingly as a large Oriental style dragon floated past him and America on the busy street of San Francisco's Chinatown. Much work had obviously been put into constructing it and the dozen or so other costumes that paraded down the street in celebration of the Chinese New Year. _

"_Like it, huh?" America asked while slurping up a bowl of noodles (with a fork). _

"_I do." Was China's simple reply. He followed the procession of other performers and marchers "They put a lot of effort into this."_

_America licked his lips as he gulped down the last of the bowl, "Course they did; my people always give 110%!"_

"_Your people?" China scanned the parade's participants, the huge crowd of onlookers and others passing by. Chinese, most of them. Chinese-Americans. Together with other nationalities. China chuckled._

"_I guess they are."_

The rock crashed down on the Rattlesnakes head. This had the adverse affect of making the fangs sink deeper into his flesh but America ignored it. He lifted the rock up above his head and again brought it down on the skull of his attacker. The Rattlesnake let go of his leg and for a second looked dazed. It recovered its wits just in time to avoid the next attack from America, slithering in retreat. Glaring its black snake eyes glare the Rattlesnake hissed in fury while America sent back his own defiant stare.

_America knocked loudly for a good ten seconds. Not that he minded the wait much, gave him a chance to catch his breathe, but he really had to keep moving._

_At last someone opened the door, an older man. He stared at the young looking blonde, who was leaning on the doorframe, sweating and breathing heavily, like he just run several miles in the hot California sun. His glasses were slipping from his nose and a large wad of paper slips were held delicately in his left hand. "Can I help you?" he asked._

"_Are you…Mister…Takahara?" America gasped in between a lungful of air._

"_Yes. Are you alright?"_

_America waved off the man's concern. "Car broke down… been running… up and down the coast… all day." He took one of the slips from his left hand with his right and held it out to the aging Takahara. "This is for you_."

_It was a check for $20,000._

_Before the former camp detainee could say anything America handed him another check. "And this is for your wife," and another, "And this is for your son."_

_The man who had just received $60,000 looked at America, looked down at the checks, and back up at America. "These are from the government?"_

_America nodded. "Everyone who had to go to the camps is getting one. Now if you'll excuse me, I have another thousand of these to give out." _

_He turned and hopped off the porch of the Takaharas'. But before he took as many as ten steps America turned around again to face his citizen. His tired and sweating face grew serious. _

"_I know this isn't going to make up for the years you lost, but I really want to let you know: I'm really sorry."_

_America took off before he could say anything_.

This time it was America who lunged forward to attack. The Rattlesnake made to bite him again but was too slow this time around. The rock made contact with the reptile's snout, again disorientating it. America shouted a wild primordial call as he bashed the Rattlesnake's head again and again until it slumped to the ground.

_The Lincoln Memorial was a place of solace and reflection. America didn't get that memo apparently. He paced back and forward, babbling and looking like the sky was falling on him. An older man stood nearby trying to calm him down._

"_America, please calm down." He said_

"_But, I'm a failure!" America exclaimed miserably._

"_Now see here – "_

"_For decades I've ignored you. I could have fixed things along time ago if I had just done more." America had repeated this several times now._

"_Alright, enough of this. Stop feeling sorry for yourself!"_

_In an uncharacteristic display of roughness, Martin Luther King Jr. grabbed America by his shoulders and shook him. _

"_Come on now Alfred, we don't need you moping about. If you are truly sorry them help us win this fight for equality." The civil rights leader said sternly._

_America still felt something was wrong. The bottom of his stomach was churning like never before. "I don't know if I can, Martin. I mean, I want to but how can I help you now if I've done nothing for the past century? I'm supposed to be a hero, but I've let injustice towards my own people go on for so long. Look at me!" _

_America waved his hands down to indicate himself. "I'm as white as any Kard-Karrying-Klansman! Do you really think the others really accept me as their nation? I've done nothing for them before, why should they believe in me now?"_

_Martin Luther King shook his head. He lifted America's hand and brought it up to his own. "Look, Alfred. My skin and your skin are completely different. But that does not matter in the slightest. You are still my county. You are the country of every black man and white man and every other race here. We are doing this because we believe in you, believe in everything you represent."_

_America fell silent. He looked down and away from Martin. Quietly he said, "You still believe in me even though I've been a big lie?"_

_Another shake, gentler, but still firm. "Alfred, so what if you're not the hero you thought you were." Martin said, "No one is perfect. Not you or me or anyone else. But you have to strive. If you're not the hero you thought you were then become him. You have the potential, you just have to live up to it. You can start by giving us your support."_

_America still felt uncertain. Could he really reverse 200 years of discrimination just like that? Martin spoke again._

"_I know this is probably causing you a lot of inner turmoil. If you cannot have faith in yourself then just have faith in us, because we have faith in you."_

America didn't realize the Rattlesnake was dead until the venom began pulsating through his arms. He dropped the rock next to the Rattlesnakes crushed skull as he doubled over in agony as sweat burst from his brow. It was like a wave of needles going through his veins and reaching every part of his body.

For an instant America felt like he was going to die. That was silly; everyone knew you couldn't die in a dream. Besides as a Nation a mere snake bite would hardly be enough to bring him down. Whoever had said you could not feel pain in a dream however, was a damn liar. It hurt less when the Rattlesnake was actually biting him!

How long he stayed on the ground America did not know. Minutes, hours, it could have been a week and he would not have known. Time was still on the dark frontier. Whatever amount of time had passed, America finally got himself up. The venom would not be leaving anytime soon and it wracked his body with continuous pain. But one does not achieve superpower status without a high level of pain tolerance. America picked up his shotgun and slowly started limping foward.

The poison would leave once he awoke. The memories wouldn't go away though, nor could they be flimsily justified like those brought to him from the Eagle. The Rattlesnake had wanted to torment America, keep him moving until he tired out even as he tried to fulfill his role as the hero. Pay the price for neglecting his own people.

___________________________________________________

Notes:

Chinese immigrants faced a lot of discrimination when they first arrived in America, such as working just a hard as everyone else but only receiving half the pay. Today, Chinese culture is celebrated, especially during the Chinese New Year when awesome parades and festivities are held.

In a wave of paranoia following Pearl Harbor, all Americans of Japanese ancestry were sent to concentration camps in desert areas for fear that they were spies for Japan. No one was ever convicted of espionage but many lost their homes, businesses and property while interned. In 1988 the government under President Ronald Reagan apologized for what was done to them. The survivors of those times were each given $20,000 in reparation.

For most of its history the US has been guilty of horrible treatment to its African American population. This finally changed during the Civil Right's Movement of the 1960's. Look up Martin Luther King Jr. yourself because this footnote will end up his biography if I continue.

Please Review! I'm asking nicely! Review! Review! Review! Review!


End file.
